All These Melodies
by snarkvenger
Summary: A collection of unrelated oneshots. Each one is written from a new point of view. Some drabbles, some serious. 4. Odd Hours.
1. The Letter

_Disclaimer: White Collar and all of its characters do not belong to me. This story does.  
**A/N:** _So basically I've been going through White Collar withdrawals since the S1 finale and since S2 is so close, I decided I'd celebrate with a little oneshot collection. This first one is pretty serious and somber, but I've got planned for lots of lighthearted stuff. If you have any suggestions for a one shot or drabble that I could do for this collection, let me know in a review or you can just message me your idea. :) Enjoy the story, and please leave a review if you liked it!

* * *

To the woman I once knew,

Though my hand shakes and tears dot this paper, these words must escape the captivity of my pen. Most nights I close my eyes and all I see is smoke and fire, so I open them only to see your face- a faint outline on the ceiling that lingers for just seconds before gently floating away. I reach out to touch you but am always too late.

Reminders of you sit all around me. I can't turn without seeing another. I hear your voice in the hallways and am always crushed when I turn around quickly and find that, of course, it is not you. And that is always when I wonder- did you ever think about this way? Did you lie awake at night, confining yourself to one side of the bed because you were so used to having someone next to you? Did you walk along the street and absently reach to your side, hoping to find yourself gripping mine? And if you did and only felt the breeze lacing between your fingers, did tears ever prick at your eyes because I wasn't there?

I wonder if your heart ever fluttered at the sound of my name. I wonder if, when we were always separated by that plastic wall and you pressed your hand hard against it, you really wanted to touch me. I wonder if you really meant it when you told me that you loved me.

No matter what your answers are, I know that I loved you once, and I love you still. Nothing in this world could change that. But my heart aches when I think that there may be a possibility that you might not have felt the same way about me. I know that you would try to convince me that that isn't true. I wish I could convince myself of this. But I can't.

I think it was your eyes. Something about the look in your eyes when I saw you last. They weren't bright, like I am so used to seeing. You were smiling at me, but they weren't. They were just looking, blankly, at me or maybe even through me. It was if you saw and, at the same time, you didn't. You knew I was there and yet couldn't tell who I was. I was just another person, any other person, about to climb aboard with fly away with you. I was distanced from you, in every sense of the word, and there is not a thing in this world that could even begin to close that distance.

We both changed, for better or for worse. Whoever you used to be is lost somewhere amongst oil portraits, torn manuscripts, and broken wine bottles- souvenirs of a life lived by someone else. Whoever I used to be is back there as well. Who knows, maybe those lost scraps of our former selves are there together, still holding hands and telling jokes and whispering sweet nothings. Maybe they'll stay that way forever. You and me, however, have moved on from that place. You will certainly never go back, and I don't think that I could handle the journey.

Some nights I wish I could reach to my side and feel your warm skin under my hand. Some days I wish I could see your smile in the sun. I suppose, though, that I will just have to accept that you're gone. The you I didn't get to know is gone. And the me you'll never get to meet will keep on going, walking, breathing-living.

At least one of is.

Sincerely,  
The man you'll never meet

* * *

Neal took a slow yet shaky breath as he set the letter down on the polished mahogany table before him. He leaned forward, elbows pressed against the table, thumbs rubbing his temples. He sighed deeply, shook his head. His hair, still wet from his shower, was plastered against his skin. With a trembling hand he lifted the flimsy paper again. He was all at once aware of the weakness of the paper, the uselessness, the insignificant of something so small and simple in a world so wide and full.

Slowly, he crushed the letter between his hands, rolling it up into a ball. Neal rose from his seat, the liquor coursing through him pushing his body from side to side before he gripped the table to steady himself. The made his way to the fireplace at the other end of the library, which he asked June to keep lit for an hour or so longer than usual, as he enjoyed the warmth. He lowered himself to his knees, feeling the heat of the flames as they struggled to reach him.

"Goodbye, Kate," he whispered. He dropped the little ball of paper into the hungry flames, watching as they quickly devoured it. Suddenly, his last conversation with her was nothing but a pile of ash.


	2. Fireworks

_Disclaimer: White Collar and all of its characters do not belong to me. This story does.  
**A/N:**_ Happy Independence Day to my fellow Americans out there! I hope you all have a great holiday filled with barbecues, fireworks, and sparklers! Have fun and keep safe! I hope you enjoy this little story here. I just wanted to do something cute and festive for the 4th of July. Please drop a review! They make me smile! :)

_We hold these truths to be self-evident,  
that all men are created equal, that  
they are endowed by their Creator with  
certain unalienable Rights, that among  
these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit  
of Happiness._

"Peter! Something's burning!"

"Oh, God…"

Peter jumped from his seat and rushed through the kitchen, practically knocking Elizabeth over in his scramble to get to the grill. He heard her laughing as the back door continued to swing on its hinges. In a moment she was outside with him, setting a large pitcher of iced tea on the patio table.

"I thought you said barbequing was your thing," she joked.

"It is!" her husband defended. He took a small step back so she could see the neat row of burgers sizzling on the grill. "See? Everything's fine."

She shook her head, slapped him playfully on the shoulder and giggled all the way inside. Peter sighed as he finished flipping each of the little meat patties. Elizabeth was a blur moving in and out of the house, setting up the small outdoor table with plastic cups, paper plates, American flag napkins, and almost anything else she could find.

"So what time is Neal coming?" she asked on one of her trips. Peter stopped mid-flip, his head quickly snapping up.

"Who?" he asked automatically. Elizabeth paused in the door way. She raised her eyebrow at Peter.

"Neal? Your partner?"

"Okay, Elle, he's not my-"

"I thought you said he was coming?"

"I-"

"I told you to ask him weeks ago."

"You…"

"Oh, Peter!"

"What did I do?"

Elizabeth shook her head and went back into the house without another word, leaving Peter dumbfounded on the patio.

"Elle?" he called. "What…What did I do?"

In the kitchen, Elizabeth bypassed the array of condiments waiting on the counter and went straight for the phone. She glanced over the small bulletin board on the wall, searching for the tiny slip of yellow paper that had Neal's tidy handwriting and punched in the number.

_Ring…ring…_

"Hello?" Neal's voice rang brightly through the line.

"Hi, Neal," Elizabeth greeted cheerfully.

"Elizabeth? Hi, how are you?" the young man replied.

"I'm great, thanks. I was actually calling because we're doing some fourth of July barbequing and it seems that Peter may have forgotten to offer you an invitation."

"Oh." His voice suddenly became like a pebble dropped to the floor.

"I was hoping, though, that you might want to come by? We've got plenty to eat and we'd just love to have you here."

"I don't know," Neal said slowly. "If Peter didn't invite me maybe he doesn't want me there."

"Don't be silly, Neal," Elizabeth said. "You know Peter. I'm sure he'd love for you to come. I know I would."

"Well…"

"Hmm?" she pressed.

"I promised June I'd hang around here for the afternoon. But would it be alright if I stopped by later on?"

"That would be great Neal! I'll see you later."

"Okay, see you later. And Elizabeth?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said, right before the line disconnected. She smiled, scooped up the bottles of ketchup and mustard and whatever else Peter had requested and scurried back outside. She plopped everything down on the table and turned to face her husband, her hands on her hips and smile on her face.

"He's coming," she said happily.

"Oh," Peter said, and when she narrowed her eyes at him he added a half-hearted, "Good."

Hours later the couple found themselves sitting out on the patio, setting slightly-charred burgers on buns on their plates, with their favorite young ex-con between them. The sky was just beginning to darken and the first firecrackers could be heard going off somewhere in the distance.

"Is everything alright?" Elizabeth questioned when they started to eat.

"Perfect," Neal replied. Peter just nodded, his mouth filled with Elizabeth's homemade potato salad. Elizabeth giggled, the sound floating through the air with a contagious quality that made all three of them burst out laughing.

"This is really nice, you guys," Neal said after a while. "Thanks for inviting me."

"You're always welcome here, Neal," Elizabeth said and, to her surprise, Peter started to nod in agreement. Neal smiled and started to push away from the table.

"I guess I should be going," he said softly.

"So soon?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yeah, I don't really want to impose."

"Oh, Neal, you're not imposing."

"Yeah, besides, it's getting dark enough to actually see the fireworks," Peter said. "And I think it's some kind of a sin to not watch those on July 4th. At least in America it is."

"Are you sure?" Neal asked. Elizabeth nodded her head as she began to clear away the plates.

"Of course we're sure," she told him. He smiled and he and Peter helped Elizabeth clean up. By the time they were finished, the sky was completely dark. Elizabeth fetched an old beach towel from the linen closet and laid it out on the front lawn. She and Peter nestled in each others' arms on one end of the towel, while Neal settled on the other. Satchmo, who had been stuck inside during dinner so he wouldn't beg for scraps, lay comfortably between them, a furry barrier of sorts.

The fireworks exploded against the navy sky, yellow sparks blending easily with the stars and red ones glistening brilliantly before they fizzled out into little sparks drifting down to the earth. The Burkes heard Neal sigh contentedly and glanced over to see him lie down on the towel, his head resting on Satchmo's back. Elizabeth smiled and laughed to herself. When she looked back to Peter, he stamped a kiss on her lips, delicate yet sudden. Her gasp caught in her throat and her smile grew as he leaned in for another.

"The fireworks are pretty, aren't they?" she asked, diverting her attention back to the sky as another pop sounded in the distance. Peter didn't take his eyes off of her.

"Beautiful."


	3. First Kiss

_Disclaimer: White Collar and its characters do not belong to me. This story does.  
**A/N: **_So basically I'm a sap and decided to show it with a little PeterxElizabeth fluff. Enjoy and please leave a review~_**  
**_

_Ten…_

We were sitting across from each other, two candles illuminating the space between us. The waiter had dropped the check in front of Peter. He counted out the money quickly and tucked it with the bill.

"Ready?" he asked, and I nodded.

_Nine…_

We walked out the restaurant together, his hand on my back, gently guiding me towards the door. Outside the rain had started to let up a bit. Only a tiny drizzle remained, sprinkling droplets into the puddles on the sidewalk.

_Eight…_

Peter hailed a cab. He opened the door very gentleman-like and waited for me to climb inside. He gave the driver my address and off we went.

_Seven…_

"So, I had a good time tonight," he said, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Did you?"

I couldn't help but smile at the shy way he looked at me.

"I had a great time."

_Six…_

We stopped at a red light. Timidly, Peter's hand reached across the seat between us. His fingers slowly curled around mine. They were warm to the touch, a total contrast to the air outside.

_Five…_

The cab pulled up to my apartment and Peter opened the door, stepped onto the street and let me get out.

"So, um, we should do this again sometime."

_Four…_

"I'd like that," I told him. The little smile he'd been wearing all night finally grew.

"Okay. I'll call you."

_Three…_

"Sounds good," I said. We stood there in silence. Though my building was right behind us, I felt no need to turn around and go inside. The drizzle was getting caught in my hair, making it frizz only slightly at the ends.

_Two…_

Our hands touched again, our fingers lacing together like puzzle pieces that finally found their fit. I felt myself gravitating towards him more and more, his features blurring and coming back together as I got closer.

_One…_

My lips met his. It was brief, but beautiful, and when we broke apart I reached out and gingerly touched his lips with the tip of my finger, as if I was being sure it was real.

It was.

And I'll never forget it.


	4. Odd Hours

_Disclaimer: White Collar and its characters do not belong to me. This story does.  
**A/N: **_Ok, so, I'm going through a little Near Dark (1987 vampire/western) obsession right now and it's all my friend's fault. My favorite character from the movie is Severen, and one of his quotes is "We keep odd hours." It inspired this. Enjoy :)

* * *

"Checkmate," Mozzie stated triumphantly, folding his arms over his chest. Neal shook his head, fingering a pawn he'd taken early on in the game. He laughed at Mozzie's victorious pride and leaned back against the wall.

"Wow, Moz," he said. "You got me."

"Yes!" Mozzie cheered, banging a fist on the floor, the vibration scattering the chess pieces across the apartment. Mozzie glanced sheepishly at his friend, who couldn't help but laugh. Neal waved a hand towards the other man.

"We'll clean it up later," he said. "Now, we get to work."

"Right," Mozzie replied, suddenly serious. He reached behind himself, pulling out a stack of research. Neal glanced over it, leafing through some of the papers briefly before Mozzie slapped his hand away.

"Ow."

"Respect the research," Mozzie stated simply. It took all of Neal's will-power not to roll his eyes or snap back with some witty quip. Mozzie lifted the top sheet off the stack, reading it over before relaying its content to his younger companion. "The box is currently on display at a low-key museum in Manhattan."

"Low-key?" Neal asked, an eyebrow raised. Mozzie held up a hand to silence him, still staring over his glasses at the paper in his hand.

"Low-key, but with good _security_," Mozzie continued. Neal nodded and motioned for him to go on. "They're not going to let anything happen to this thing."

"We'll see," Neal said, reaching out his hand as Mozzie passed the paper to him. He quickly scanned the content as his friend took a second sheet off of research pile. His face contorted in confusion and he removed his glasses, squinting his eyes and bringing the page closer to his face. After a moment he let out his breath and nodded, replacing his glasses as he passed the paper to Neal. It was a photograph of the music box, photocopied from a library book. The only text that had managed to sneak onto the page was _Catharine the Great_ in a small, italic font at the bottom. Mozzie had drawn an arrow to one of the pieces of the box- a cherub – and scribbled three question marks beside it.

"There are some rumors that there's a secret compartment built into the lid of box. There are no accounts on if anything is actually inside it, or what it would have been used to keep, but it could serve a purpose if we actually get this thing." He shoved a handful of papers towards Neal. Neal rifled through them, finding that they were all the same picture of the music box, each one with arrows and question marks directed to different parts of the box.

"So what's the plan?" Neal asked after a long pause used to examine the photos.

"Woah, woah, woah, slow down there, pal," Mozzie said, waving his hands at Neal. "Alex hasn't even seen this yet."

"I thought you-"

"I didn't."

"But-"

"She canceled."

"You-"

"Ok, I canceled."

"Moz-"

"All right, all right! I forgot."

"Mozzie, y-"

"It was a long day. I found out about that little secret chamber that makes this box even more special than it already was. I dove into researching it and before you know it…Anyway, I called her and I'm meeting her tomorrow."

Neal stared at Mozzie, completely dumbfounded. He shook his head to clear it and set the small pile of pictures down on the floor beside him.

"Okay, so after you talk to Alex-"

"We'll make up a plan."

"And then-"

"We'll get the box and have shiny gold stars pinned next to our names on the notorious con-men- or, in Alex's case, con-_woman_- board and the feds will want our heads on silver platters."

Neal nodded his head, but refused to say anything as he began to gather up the chess pieces Mozzie had sent flying just minutes ago.

"What?" Mozzie said. "Something wrong?"

"No," Neal replied. "I just wasn't going to say anything be-"

"Because you thought I'd interrupt you."

"Ye-"

"Like I just did."

"Mozzie."

"Sorry." Mozzie reached across the game board, gathering up the pictures he'd let Neal see. He settled them back on his stack. He neatly organized all the pages while Neal finished cleaning up their game. He started to pack the board and pieces back into the box when they heard the squeak of door hinges followed by light footsteps. Both men froze as she came into the room, fiddling with the sleeves of her nightgown as she walked.

"I thought I heard someone," Kate said, her voice heavy with sleep.

"We woke you," Neal said apologetically.

"I was only half asleep anyway," she said, waving him off. She combed her fingers through her hair as her eyes scanned the scene before her. She looked passed them to small digital clock she kept on the end table, whose LED screen was flashing 3:45 AM. A yawn parted her strawberry lips, and when it passed she just shook her head. "God, you're up late."

Neal and Mozzie glanced at other, smiles dancing over their features.

"We know," Mozzie said.

Neal grinned up Kate and added, "We keep odd hours."


End file.
